


Silence Says

by overlordpotatoe



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Autism, Disability, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, teen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21623512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overlordpotatoe/pseuds/overlordpotatoe
Summary: Toby didn't like to talk to people or look them in the eye. He didn't need friends. Or did he? Shipped off to summer camp, Toby had more new things to get used to than he could deal with. Could his cabinmate, Noah, offer the support he so desperately needed?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Toby straightened out his books along the top of his new dresser for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was actually the sixth, though — he'd been counting. 

If there was one thing that Toby had been looking forward to about summer vacation, it was being alone. He didn't have friends. Didn't need them, wasn't very good at making them, so it worked out. His foster parents, unfortunately, disagreed. That was how he'd ended up at summer camp.

Or maybe they had just wanted to get rid of him, just like his real parents had. Nobody wanted a kid who wouldn't look at you and only had complaints on the rare occasions he spoke because things weren't just so. Who would get inconsolably upset over seemingly insignificant things.

The one saving grace of this whole ordeal was that Toby would only have to share the tiny cabin with one other boy. Or perhaps that was a bad thing. No witnesses. Toby had always been an easy target for bullying and, because of his poor communication skills, never really knew how to ask for help.

The door banged open and Toby leapt backwards, landing on his bed, his hands reflexively going to cover his ears.

A boy around Toby's age — sixteen — stomped in, his eyes on Toby but his path taking him towards the empty bed on the opposite side of the room. Toby met his gaze, taking in ice blue eyes and short brown hair, then quickly averted his eyes back to the bed.

"Noah," the other boy said.

Toby stared down at his bedspread, a faded blue thing covered in cartoonish white stars, as he decoded the meaning of the word. "Oh. Toby."

Noah made a sound of acknowledgement before dumping his things at the end of his bed. "So, what are you in for?"

Toby glanced up because he didn't want to make a terrible first impression if at all possible. Look at people when they talk to you, that's what the psychologist he saw every month was always saying. "What?"

"Why are you here?" Noah clarified, an edge of impatience in his voice. "You don't look any more excited about this whole summer camp thing than I am."

"Oh," Toby said. He hadn't spoken this much in weeks, but he was trying, really trying, to make Noah not hate him. At least not within the first five minutes of meeting him. "Because nobody wants me around."

It was the more melodramatic answer, Toby supposed, but it was the shortest one he could think of. The right one, too, perhaps, because Noah grinned. "Hey, me too!"

That was, apparently, the end of the conversation, as Noah turned away and began unpacking. Toby straightened his books again. He'd knocked them out of alignment when he'd been startled by Noah's entrance.

#

By the time the lunch bell rang, Toby was thoroughly absorbed in a book and Noah was doing something on his phone. Texting, probably. They seemed to have made a silent agreement that socialisation was unnecessary. Still, when they left for lunch, they left together.

The cafeteria was large, noisy, and lit with fluorescent lights. Toby was tempted to walk out the moment he walked in. The sensory input felt like it was pressing in on him personally, like the sound of someone laughing a few tables away was right up against him. 

Noah was behind him, though, nudging him through the other teenager boys congested around the doors, leaving Toby with little choice but to continue inside. Reluctantly, he joined the queue for food.

Somehow Toby had managed to forget one of the biggest issues with this whole ordeal until it was right in front of him. Food. It looked as bad as the food the cafeteria at school served, but Toby had never actually had to eat that. Every day for lunch he'd had an apple and the cheese sandwiches his foster mum had made him on bread no more than a day old. That had been the way he’d liked things. He didn't want mac and cheese. He didn't want chicken nuggets. He did not want any stale, soggy potato wedges, thank you very much.

He grabbed a fruit salad and found his way out of the queue and to a table.

He didn't know why he was surprised when Noah sat down next to him. They'd hardly talked, of course, but somehow Toby had still expected Noah to prefer a random stranger over him. It was the way things had always been.

"No wonder you're so skinny," Noah said over the ruckus, jabbing his plastic fork in the direction of Toby's fruit salad when all Toby did in response was stare.

Toby's gaze shifted to his food before, after a moment of contemplation, he folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them. That blocked out the light, at least, and a little bit of the sound if he hunched his shoulders up to cover his ears.

"Hmm," was all Noah had to say about that.

Someone stood up and made an announcement at some point, but the words were nothing but more sounds in the chaos that surrounded Toby. It was probably important, but Toby felt too wound up to care.

When the person stopped speaking Noah tugged Toby's arm, pulled him up, and he went without complaint. Toby didn't really want to be touched just then, but the guiding hand around his wrist simplified his passage through the cafeteria so he didn't complain.

A man held out a hand to prevent them from stepping outside. "No food outside of the cafeteria."

Toby looked down at the fruit salad in his hand. He hadn't realised he'd taken it with him.

"Well?" the man said expectantly.

Those were incomplete instructions. No food outside the cafeteria, okay. So what happened to the fruit salad? He couldn't make words to ask, not right then.

"Just let him take it, man," Noah spoke up. "He hasn't eaten yet."

"That was his choice. Next time maybe he'll make a better one."

Toby still wasn't sure what to do with the fruit salad, so he held it out to the man. Apparently that was the right thing to do, or  _ a _ right thing, because the man took it without complaint and let them past.

They didn't speak as Toby followed Noah across camp, heading in a direction that was not back to their room. Where they were going and why were questions Toby would have liked to have known the answers to, but he didn’t have the words to ask just then.

It was mostly quiet outside, at least, and that helped calm Toby's mind a little. Trees and grass, a wide open space. Toby preferred to stay inside because he didn't like people, not because he didn't like the outside world. If everything else hadn't been so terrible he might have been able to enjoy the natural beauty surrounding him.

Toby picked up a pinecone and pulled scales off it as they walked. If he focussed on the pinecone he could block out at least a little of the rest of the world. The sharp scales dug at his skin, the small amount of pain grounding him further.

By the time they reached the clearing at the edge of camp filled with other boys, Toby had settled down enough to lean against a tree and watch at a distance rather than simply run back to their cabin. Noah stayed with Toby for a few moments before wandering out to join the more social boys.

Toby studied Noah carefully. The way he quickly inserted himself into a game of hacky sack with no more than a few words to complete strangers, his easy smile, his friendly laugh, his careful and graceful movements as he took part in the game. Though Toby had always told himself he didn’t want friends, it still made him feel unpleasantly isolated.

Someone blew a whistle, long and loud, and Toby's hands flew up to clamp over his ears. The little bit of calm Toby had regained was immediately shattered. He focussed his attention on his pinecone again, tugging and twisting at the scales.

"Okay, boys, we're going to do trust falls!" the camp counselor shouted over the dwindling ruckus. "Can I get a volunteer? Okay, come here, let's show everyone how it's done."

Toby kept his eyes firmly on the pinecone. He knew what trust falls were and he knew how they were done. He also knew he wasn't going to do it. He didn't want anyone touching him just then and he didn't want to touch anyone else.

"Hey!" the camp counselor called after the demonstration was over and the others had begun pairing up. "Are you going to participate or are you just going to stand there?"

Toby flicked his eyes up just long enough to confirm that the counselor was speaking to him before returning his attention to the pinecone. No, no, no. He wasn't doing this and nobody could make him. They couldn’t  _ force _ him to trust people. Didn’t that defeat the purpose?

"Toby, come on, I'll do it with you," Noah called to him, but Toby ignored him just as much as he was ignoring the camp counselor.

"Unless you have a medical certificate, you have to participate," the camp counselor said, closer now.

Toby felt a flash of anger run through him and had to force himself to resist throwing the pinecone at the counselor. His psychologist had taught him two things: that he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, and that it was not okay to lash out at people. But her only solution she’d ever had for when the two came into conflict was to  _ talk _ about it instead, but he  _ couldn’t _ , so what was he supposed to do?

"You can go up to administration if you don't feel like cooperating," the counselor warned.

Toby didn't want that. He hadn't been there before, he didn't know the procedure, and he couldn't explain himself. He was well beyond words. Toby leant forward and then rocked back so that his back thumped against the tree, did it again and again, creating a soothing rhythm.

"Is he retarded?" Toby heard someone ask, and someone else laughed.

"Toby," Noah's voice said gently from beside him. "It's not a big deal."

"No!" Toby said,  _ shouted _ , the word coming out louder than intended. " _ No _ ."

"Is he your cabinmate?" the counselor asked, his voice lowered now as he addressed Noah. Noah must have nodded, because the counselor continued. "Take him back to your cabin."

Toby wasn't sure what had happened to being sent to administration. He followed close behind Noah as they headed back, his eyes tracking Noah's shadow on the ground instead of watching where he was going. They arrived back quicker than Toby had expected.

"Do you want to tell me what just happened?" Noah asked as they walked into the cabin.

Toby sat down on the wooden floor and began picking his shoe laces undone. "No."

Noah let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine."

Toby flinched as the door slammed shut behind Noah, his hands leaping up to cover his ears too late to block out the sound. Well, that was it. He'd driven away the one person who had been nice to him without being paid to. Somewhere deep inside, beneath the fog that clouded out his thoughts, Toby cared.


	2. Chapter 2

Toby was on his ninth sudoku puzzle. He hadn't counted — it was a new book and they came conveniently numbered. He was practised enough at them that he only needed to dedicate part of his mind to the process. The rest of it was free to defrag as he tried to let go of the dramas of the day and relax.

There was a sound outside the door and Toby quickly clamped his hands over his ears, ready to block out the sound of the door slamming open. There was no slam, though, just a quiet creak as Noah pushed it open and stepped in. Noah shut the door just as quietly and Toby allowed his hands to fall back down to his lap.

Toby kept his head down and his eyes on his sudoku book, but he could hear Noah's approaching footsteps. Noah stopped next to Toby's bed and, when Toby still failed to acknowledge him, dropped something in front of Toby. Three somethings, Toby saw when he looked.

It was almost reflexively that Toby reached out and straightened the new items on his bed out into a row. A can of soda. A chocolate bar. A bag of chips.

"The 'no food outside the cafeteria' rule doesn't apply to overpriced vending machine food," Noah explained. "Funny that."

"Oh," Toby said. He wasn't sure whether he was being given the food or simply shown it, and he wasn't sure how to ask.

For a moment they were both silent as Toby stared uncertainly at the food. It was Noah who spoke next. "I wasn't sure what you'd like. They have some different ones if you want..."

That was it, confirmation. They were for Toby. Why they were for him Toby still wasn't sure, but it would have to do for now.

"Thank you," Toby said as he reached for the food. Basic manners had been drilled into him, rehearsed over and over, so those words came more easily than most.

Noah lingered beside Toby's bed, his fingers tapping a rhythm against the wooden sideboard. What was he waiting for?

"Do you want some?" Toby tried, holding up the chocolate bar and chips and, just for a moment, meeting Noah's light blue eyes. They were nice eyes. Toby wished looking at them didn't make him feel so uncomfortable.

"No, I'm good." Another moment of silence hung heavy in the air. "So you're feeling better?"

Toby nodded his head and made a sound of confirmation as he turned the chocolate bar around in his hand. Toby's foster mum was always saying that it didn't matter which way you opened things, that it was only printing on packaging, but the whole idea of opening something upside down just felt wrong to Toby.

When Noah went back to his side of the room it was with a sigh, and Toby was left feeling like he'd done something wrong. He wished people would tell him the rules, lay them out clearly, instead of just assuming he knew them. This was why friends weren't worth the trouble. Toby appreciated the food, but the whole thing had left him with a pile of unanswered questions that would nag at him incessantly.

Toby swallowed a sticky mouthful of caramel, nougat, and chocolate. "Do you want me to pay you back?"

It came out as more of a question than it was. A double question.

Noah glanced up from his mobile phone and waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, it was just... I thought you might be hungry. My dad gave me spending money because he's an idiot who didn't even look at the brochure. Yeah, Dad, there's going to be a gift shop at the summer camp."

Toby had money with him, but not because he thought he would need it. He'd been with his current foster parents for two years now, but he still made sure to keep all his most important things with him. Not that there'd ever been a time when he hadn't been allowed to get his things before moving to a new home, but it had always just felt more secure that way.

"Want to go for a walk?" Noah offered. "There's a lake."

"No," Toby said a heartbeat after Noah had finished his question. Too fast. He'd been told his tone of voice was flat, monotonous, no matter his mood, but little things like this betrayed his feelings.

Noah shrugged as he pushed himself up out of bed. "Well, I'm going. Maybe you can come next time?"

"Maybe," Toby agreed, and he meant it.

#

When Noah returned it was dark and Toby was asleep. The quiet sound of the door creaking open woke him. Toby had to struggle against the blankets swaddled tightly around his body to roll over to face Noah. It wasn't as good as the weighted blanket he had at home, but as it was what he'd done before he'd gotten his special blanket the sensation had been familiar enough to lull him into sleep.

Noah leant against the doorframe, the moonlight from outside outlining his form. "Coming to dinner?"

"Ngh," said Toby before correcting it into a word. "No."

"Hmm," was all Noah said before leaving again.

Toby secured his blankets around his body properly again and went back to sleep.

The next time Toby woke was to Noah returning again, this time for real. Noah took quiet steps across the room to his bed, apparently unaware that he'd already woken Toby.

And then Noah took his shirt off.

Toby couldn't see much through the darkness, just the general shape of Noah's body where the dim moonlight lit his bare skin, but somehow it made Toby's stomach squirm in a way he wasn't sure it would have in full daylight. He shouldn't have been watching, he was socially aware enough to know that, but he couldn't help it. Even as Noah slid his jeans down his legs, Toby couldn't drag his eyes away.

Toby was relieved — disappointed — when the strip show went no further than that. He'd seen more than he should have, not as much as he would have liked. Amongst all the guilt and the low burn of lust, Toby felt sad. He couldn't imagine anyone ever revealing themselves to him like that intentionally. He was too weird, too unstable.

Even those who were paid to be nice to him and to help him seemed uncomfortable with the idea of him having a sexuality at all. It was like, in their eyes, he wasn't fully real. A partial person with pieces missing, a few extra bits that didn't really fit. However nice, however helpful, they saw him as the thing they had decided he was, the thing they were comfortable with him being, and nothing else.

Noah slipped into his bed and after only a few seconds of shifting around he lay still and peaceful. Normal people were so weird.


	3. Chapter 3

Toby woke up the next morning feeling hungry and irritable, but in other ways better. Some of the anxiety brought on by being in a new place had dissipated, at least for now. He knew from past experience that it would be back as soon as he was hit by the reality of the outside world again, but it was good to at least have a short break. Anxiety was exhausting.

When Toby sat up and stretched Noah, fully clothed and his hair wet from the shower, gave him a smile. Not for the first time in his life, Toby was glad he had the world's best poker face. He hadn't forgotten what he'd seen last night.

Unlike most summer camps, the cabins here came with their own tiny bathrooms. As mad as he was just then at his foster parents for sending him away, he knew they had chosen this place very carefully. For that, Toby was grateful. 

Their concern had probably been that his autistic brain wouldn’t have stood a chance if he’d had to be around people that much, which was absolutely true, but that wasn’t the only reason it would have been a disaster. He couldn't imagine sharing a bathroom with dozens of other guys, having them see him naked. Seeing  _ them _ naked. He wasn’t sure how his body would have responded to that, but if it hadn’t behaved he could have ended up in a lot of trouble. 

Toby had to admit that his foster parents had been very good to him. He was the only child they were fostering, unlike other places he’d stayed which had housed as many as half a dozen kids, many of them with issues enough of their own to drive Toby into daily meltdown.

Showering was a relaxing process, reassuringly routine. A washcloth and body wash, from the top of his body to the bottom. He washed his hair on Mondays and Thursdays, though it irked him that a seven day week couldn't be divided evenly into two. He got out of the shower. Dried, dressed, brushed his teeth. By the time he left the bathroom, he was feeling almost calm.

His feelings of calmness were only slightly shaken when Noah looked at him and asked, "Breakfast?"

Toby nodded and Noah's lips turned up into a gentle smile. It was easier to look at his mouth than his eyes, and when Toby was feeling reasonably okay he could manage that much. Most people didn't notice the difference.

It was summer, too hot for anything but short sleeves, but Toby grabbed a hoodie and pulled it on anyway. Like pulling the blankets over his head when he was scared at night, the imaginary shield hoodies provided made Toby feel safer.

He followed behind Noah like a duckling as they left the cabin, right on his heel but never quite beside him. It was clear, as they walked down the row of cabins, that Noah had already made other friends. Two guys called out greetings as Noah and Toby walked past their cabin, and another gave Noah a friendly pat on the back as he dashed past.

Toby felt both invisible and too exposed all at once. He hadn't been acknowledged, but he was too close to someone who was fast becoming an attention magnet.

As they entered the cafeteria Toby flipped his hood up, both to hide himself and to shelter himself from the chaos he'd just entered.

"Aren't you hot?" Noah asked.

Toby nodded but stayed quiet. He might have said yes — he still felt capable of speech — but he didn't want to raise his voice over the din of the other boys.

Toby was more focussed on food this time, and as they made their way through the queue he carefully considered his options. Yogurt, that was okay. And fruit salad he would actually eat this time, yes. Dry toast? Why not? He wouldn’t enjoy it, but it was harmless enough.

Noah led the way to a mostly empty table and they sat down to eat.

Toby stayed focussed on his food while he ate, but Noah spoke to the other boys who soon joined them at their table. Getting to know you things, mostly. Do you like any sports? Noah liked football, and he surfed when he got the chance, though he wasn't very good. How old are you? Noah was seventeen, a year older than Toby. What house are you in? Noah was in blue. If that was a camp thing, Toby could only assume he was in the same. He hoped he was, anyway.

By the time they'd finished eating Toby seemed to have been more or less forgotten which, he told himself, was good. That didn't stop Toby from following Noah like a lost puppy as they left the cafeteria, of course.

Outside the cafeteria they were broken off into colour groups. Toby was fairly sure he was supposed to be in the blue group with Noah. It was led by the same camp counselor who had gotten angry at Toby the previous day. He didn't seem angry now, though, even offering Toby a smile when he noticed him. Toby dropped his eyes to the ground and hunched his shoulders. He didn't want  _ any _ kind of attention.

The counselor announced that rock climbing would be their morning activity, but when they actually arrived at the site Toby saw that what they would be climbing was not actually rocks. It was a large wooden board out in the woods with brightly coloured holds screwed into it. Plastic, he discovered when he tapped one of the holds with his knuckles.

Toby went and leant against a tree as the counselor gave safety instructions and explained the gear, an uncomfortable mimicry of the previous day's activity. Noah was over near the front of the crowd, enthusiastically volunteering to go first. As the equipment was set up, Toby was left alone.

Noah went up with the first set of climbers, his movements confident and the muscles in his arms flexing as he pulled himself up. Toby was so busy watching that he didn't notice the counselor's approach.

"You don't have to have a go if you don't want to," the counselor said before Toby had a chance to prepare himself to dig his heels in and kick up a fuss. "If you like, you can just watch."

Toby wasn't very good at picking up on tone, but this one he'd heard often enough to recognise. It was a change in attitude that told Toby loud and clear that either someone had informed the counselor of his condition or the counselor had come to his own conclusions.

"It looks like fun, doesn't it?" the counselor continued, his voice slow and gentle like he was talking to a small child. "Would you like to have a go?"

"No," Toby said, quiet but firm. When he was little his mum had told him that his first word had been 'no'. It had certainly always been his favourite, even if it sometimes didn't work.

"Are you sure? You don't have to go all the way up and there are safety ropes to catch you if you fall so you won't get hurt."

If he'd been a more articulate sort he might have said  _ yes, I know how safety ropes work, but I don't feel like climbing, thank you. _ Instead he made a sound of frustration and began picking at the bark of the tree he was leaning against. Apparently that was an acceptable way of declining, though, because the counselor left him alone after that.

Noah came jogging up to Toby not long after, his skin glistening with sweat and a grin on his face. "You should have a go! It's fun!"

"Don't like heights," Toby murmured.

Noah lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, revealing a swathe of well toned, lightly tanned skin. Toby's eyes lingered, then quickly dropped to the ground when Noah let go of his shirt.

"Being afraid is half the fun," Noah insisted.

"Maybe if you're not  _ always _ afraid," Toby groused before realising how dramatic that sounded. He dug a hole into the leaf litter with the toe of his shoe.

Noah acknowledged Toby's response with a  _ hmm _ and a shrug before moving on. "You should probably take that thing off before you die of heat stroke."

Toby just shrugged.

"At least take the hood off, man," Noah said before, with a casual swipe, doing it himself.

Toby's response was a sound, not a word, an irritated grumble as he stepped away from Noah and pulled his hood back into place. He held tight to the edges of it as a precaution against it being tugged down again.

For a moment Noah just stared before shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. "Fine. Roast yourself alive."

Toby felt much hotter than he had a moment ago and angry in a wounded way that only built and built. It was real emotion that he couldn’t help, but he’d been called grumpy, been accused of sulking, so many times that now every negative emotion came with an added layer of guilt.

He’d never heard those words from his current foster mum, but he hadn’t been able to forget them enough to trust her. She'd always tried to get to find out what was wrong, get to the root of things. Usually she only succeeded in getting silence or excessive distress.

When Noah returned a few minutes later and held a bottle of water out to Toby, it was Toby's first instinct to say no, maybe shout it, and shove the offering away. It was what he usually did when someone had wronged him: rejected them on every level.

Noah jiggled the water. “If you're going to keep that thing on, at least have something to drink. You're going to dehydrate real fast if you don't.”

Toby hesitated another moment before huffing and letting go of his grudge as best he could. He made sure to grab the bottle out of Noah's hand rather than take it nicely, though.

The warmth of the water gave it an unpleasant taste, but Toby drank it anyway. He had to admit, he was thirsty.

When Toby had finished drinking and handed the water back, Noah went back to hang out with his friends. They were, understandably, better company than Toby. Nobody without years of training or a very charitable heart actually wanted to spend time with Toby, and even those people might have been faking it for all Toby knew.

Noah took another turn at climbing a while later, and Toby found himself watching again. The way Noah slipped and caught himself every now and then suggested he was an inexperienced climber, but he was, in his own way, still skilled. He had focus, determination, and didn't give in to frustration like Toby would have.

Toby wasn't sure if he wanted Noah or if he wanted to  _ be _ Noah. Unlike Toby, Noah had patience and grace, and it seemed to take no more than a few words and the right body language to make him friends. He made everything look so easy.

On the other hand, Toby wanted to feel those muscles when they flexed, wanted Noah's hand on his back, sliding under his shirt. Toby didn't dare contemplate what he wanted beyond that. He wouldn't get it and he didn't need to be harbouring any more fantasies than he already had. Not of Noah's lips, or ass, or what his hands could do, not of... Toby bit the inside of his cheek. Yes, he definitely needed to stop.

Noah stayed with his friends all throughout the activity, but as soon as the lunch bell rang he was at Toby's side. “Lunch?”

Toby nodded. He wasn't exactly feeling cheerful or relaxed, but he thought he could probably deal with the stresses of the cafeteria without it ending in a public meltdown.

The counselor stopped them before they could leave. “Noah! Do you think you could make sure Toby gets down to the lake for your next activity after lunch?”

“Yeah, of course. I went down there yesterday so I know where everything is.”

“That's great. It's really good of you, looking out for him like this.”

“Yeah, well, you know. Cabinmates and all. Gotta take care of one another.”

“Right, right,” the counselor said to Noah, then gave Toby a little smile almost as an afterthought. “Well, you boys had better get to lunch. Take care.”

Noah waited until they were well out of earshot of the counselor before murmuring, “What an asshole.”

“He was nice to you.”

“Yeah, to  _ me _ ,” Noah stressed. “He treated you like you were retarded. At  _ best _ .”

“I'm not retarded,” Toby grumbled.

“Yeah, that was kind of my point. Don't worry, we have a different instructor for canoeing at least.”

“It'll just be the same,” Toby said, his voice taking on a whine. He took a deep breath in, let it out, and tried to sound less irritated when he spoke again. “I'm not stupid. I get good grades, I just...”

“I know you're not,” Noah said, the calm confidence of his voice a soothing balm against Toby's mounting distress. “Sometimes it's more important to people to  _ feel _ like they understand than to take the time to  _ actually _ understand. Uncertainty is uncomfortable. Also, anyone who treats you like that is a massive douchebag who deserves as little respect as they give you. Don't put up with that shit.”

It was a nice sentiment, an appreciated one, but the only ways Toby knew of not putting up with people treating him like he was retarded only strengthened their assumptions. He couldn't make a calm and sensible speech like Noah just had. Toby expressed his emotions by shouting, crying, or lashing out when someone finally managed to push him far enough to break his silence. All that got him was in trouble.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, Toby felt irritable but not actually upset. Noah was on his side. Noah was next to him, backing him up, and on his side. Just enough to hold on to, to keep himself afloat, like a life raft on stormy seas.

Having each step of whatever he needed to do clearly laid out in his head helped Toby relax. He entered the cafeteria, he picked up a tray, he joined the queue with Noah. Toby stared at the empty serving tray labelled  _ fruit salad _ and his brain staggered to a halt. He was having fruit salad for lunch. There was no fruit salad. He had no contingencies planned.

Noah rapped Toby on the shoulder with his knuckles. “What's the hold up?”

“There's no fruit salad.”

“Okay.”

“I wanted fruit salad.”

Noah placed a hand on Toby's arm. “Well, you're going to have to have something else.”

Toby jostled his arm and made a noise that sounded something like  _ nnh _ , a rejection of the touch and an idea that sounded like more than he could deal with just then.

Noah held his hands up in surrender. “How about a salad?”

“It has  _ chicken _ in it,” Toby said as though the issue with that should be obvious, before realising it would need further explanation. “They always end up leaving slimy bits in.”

“Sandwiches?”

Toby shook his head. “They all have things I don't like.”

“Crackers?”

Toby opened his mouth to point out some issue with that, then realised there wasn't one. “I will have crackers.”

“Good. Now get moving before people start getting cross at us for holding up the line.”

They found a table with some of Noah's friends and sat down. One of them saw the plate on Toby's tray, piled high with crackers, and laughed. “Dude, your cabinmate's weird.”

From the corner of his eye, Toby saw Noah shrug. “Not in a bad way.”

“No,” the boy was quick to say. “Just. Is there...”

Toby knew the end of that sentence.  _ Is there something wrong with him?  _ When he looked up, though, he saw the challenging glare on Noah's face that had interrupted his friend's question.

“Don't talk about him like he's not here. It's rude,” Noah said before turning his attention to his food.

The boy, as expected, didn't redirect his question to Toby. The tension mostly dissipated now, Toby began to nibble on one of his crackers. Bland, but inoffensive.

Something touched Toby's arm and he jerked it away. He looked up to see the boy withdraw the finger he'd used to poke Toby. 

“So, what’s your name?” the boy asked.

Normally Toby might have ignored the question, hunched his shoulders and dropped his head, but Noah was watching and Noah still thought Toby's weirdness wasn't a bad thing. “Toby.”

The boy held a hand out to Toby. “Mark.”

Toby stared at the outstretched hand for a moment before turning his gaze to Noah for help.

“He doesn't like being touched,” Noah explained.

“ _ Sometimes _ ,” Toby murmured, his voice barely audible over the noise of the cafeteria. When Toby wasn't overloaded, when he liked the person, and when they knew how to touch him in ways that didn't make Toby feel uncomfortable, he quite liked it. Gentle hugs, affectionate hair petting, soothing pats or rubs on his back. Of course, all of those things would have been quite different coming from someone like Noah than from Toby's foster mum.

Mark pulled his hand back and strummed a rhythm on the edge of the table. “So... enjoying camp so far, Toby?”

“No.”

“He's still getting used to things,” Noah explained, though Toby wasn't sure this was somewhere he could ever find a comfortable place. Maybe if there was some set routine in place like there was at school, the same classes in the same places on the same days at the same times with the same teachers. From what Toby had read on the camp's website, though, the activities were wide ranging and could change without much notice depending on weather. How could Toby possibly relax when there were so many unknowns?

Mark nodded. “First time away from home?”

The answer to that was more than Toby wanted to share with Mark, would require more words than Toby felt like he could put together just then. Toby turned his attention to his food and began constructing a cracker pyramid.

“Well okay then,” Toby heard Mark say.

“He's a bit stressed out right now,” Noah explained on Toby's behalf. “Don't take it personally.”

“I was just trying to be nice,” Mark grumbled, but he left Toby alone after that.

Toby forced down just enough of the crackers to relax the cramp in his stomach that told him he was hungry. He didn't feel hungry. He never did when he was stressed. Everyone always acted like he was on some kind of hunger strike, like he was refusing to eat just to make a point. But he just... wasn't hungry.

The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and Toby toppled his cracker tower before following Noah out of the cafeteria. Time for canoeing.


	4. Chapter 4

Mark was talkative and energetic, and he brought those same traits out in Noah. As they made their way down the trail towards the lake, the two of them began a game of catch with a pinecone.

Toby focussed on the things they passed — the tiny lizards that scurried off into the undergrowth as they approached, the birds that screeched in the trees, the trickle of a barely there creek that intermittently curved in to run alongside the trail. His attention wasn't drawn back to Noah and Mark until a pinecone hit him in the chest.

Toby came to a halt and stared down at the pinecone, his eyebrows drawing together.

"You were supposed to catch it," Mark said quickly. "I wasn't..."

"He wasn't ready," Noah said as he bent down to pick up the fallen pinecone. "Okay, Toby, ready now?"

Toby stuck his hands in his armpits and shook his head firmly. "I'll drop it."

"It's a pinecone. It's not like you're gonna break it."

Noah didn't get it. Noah was good at sports. It was unlikely anyone had ever laughed at Noah's level of ability or groaned when they had to be teamed with him. Toby would drop the pinecone. He would drop it again and again and they'd see how terrible he was at something that came easy to them.

Toby's head dropped lower and he shook it again. "No."

Noah shrugged and tossed the pinecone to Mark, who just barely managed to catch it. "That's fine."

It wasn't, though. Toby had, once again, shown himself not to be fun. Toby was starting to get the feeling that Noah was the same kind of person his foster parents were. People who enjoyed looking after others. That wasn't friends, though, not in the same way Noah and Mark were friends. That was just charity.

Toby scuffed his shoes against the ground as he walked, kicking at loose rocks. He wasn't sure when he'd decided that he wanted to be Noah's friend, that he wanted Noah to think of him as a proper person and not just something to be taken care of. Maybe he'd always cared, just a little, from the very first moment those beautiful blue eyes had landed on him.

As soon as he saw the lake, Toby regretted turning down Noah's invitation to go for a walk along it yesterday. The surface of the large lake was calm and empty, but as they approached its shore Toby saw tiny fish dart away through the clear water. He wanted to take the walk now, to walk along the shoreline and examine all the critters that made this place their home.

That wasn't what they were there for, though. They were there to canoe. If Toby kicked up a fuss he would probably be allowed to sit out, but Toby wanted Noah there with him and Noah was clearly looking forward to the activity. Besides, that wasn't a very mature attitude. He'd been told that before. It's okay to say no, but you should give things a try when you can.

They followed the curve of the shoreline to where the other boys in their house had gathered between a large shed-like structure covered in peeling red paint and a dock that jutted out onto the lake. Noah reached a hand out to guide Toby out of the way as a couple of the boys made their way through the group, each carrying one end of a canoe.

"Two people to a canoe!" the camp counselor — a different one — shouted to the group. "You will each need a life jacket and an oar. Hurry up!"

Toby was almost certain that two people to a canoe meant he was sitting out after all, but it was Mark who lifted a hand in farewell to Noah and wandered off into the group in search of a partner. With a gentle hand on his back, Noah guided Toby into the shed.

Inside the shed at least two dozen canoes were stacked on racks, some too high for Toby to reach but probably not out of range of Noah's half head of extra height.

"Which one should we pick?" Noah asked Toby.

"I don't know anything about canoes.”

"I don’t know much either," Noah admitted as he tugged Toby out of the path of another pair of boys. "Which one do you think looks the coolest?"

Toby pursed his lips and considered the canoes, their range of colours and patterns. "I don't think I really know what cool means in this context."

"Whichever one makes you happiest to look at."

Toby was fairly sure that wasn't what 'cool' meant at all, but it did simplify things. After a moment of careful consideration Toby pointed to one painted orange, red, and pink. It reminded him of a sunset.

It was a little embarrassing, how much stronger Noah was than Toby. While Toby struggled with his end up the canoe, Noah lifted the other with ease. With a bit of difficulty and a bit of help from Mark they managed to get it out onto the dock, then Noah jogged back inside for oars and life jackets.

"You really should take your hoodie off," Noah said as he handed Toby one of the life jackets. "I won't bug you about it if you say no, but we're going to be in full sun for quite a while."

Toby pulled his hoodie off without comment and felt a blessed cooling as the sweat coating his skin started to evaporate. When Noah had been sweaty and flush faced it had only made him more attractive, but Toby was pretty sure he just looked gross. He clipped on the uncomfortably stiff life jacket and helped Noah get the canoe into the water.

Noah made climbing into the canoe look easy, but when his turn came Toby hesitated.

"Here, crouch down and hold onto the edge of the canoe with both hands," Noah instructed. "Good, now put one leg forward into the canoe. Okay, now—"

Another canoe hit the water nearby, sending ripples across the surface of the lake. Toby and Noah's canoe started to rock and then Toby was falling forward, tumbling into the canoe. Before Toby could properly process what had happened he felt Noah's hands on his chest, catching him as he fell.

"It's okay, I've got you," Noah said as he carefully lowered Toby into the swaying canoe.

Toby realised that he was clinging to Noah's arm and quickly let go. Well, that was embarrassing.

Noah, though, just acted like nothing had happened. He helped Toby get seated at the back of the canoe and showed him how to hold his oar before moving to the front and pushing off from the dock. Toby tried to paddle and immediately crashed them back into it.

Noah laughed, but it didn't sound unkind. He pushed the canoe away from the dock again. "You're doing the steering. Try paddling on the other side. No, you're— We're going in circles here."

Toby gripped the oar tight and pursed his lips. He could feel his frustration rising, felt the urge to give up on this whole thing and throw his oar into the water. Nobody else seemed to be having as much trouble as they were.

"Here, come on, let's switch places," Noah said, his voice gentler now. "My fault. I've done this before, so I should be steering. I was just thinking that because I'm stronger I should be the one powering us, but speed doesn't really matter."

Noah gave Toby's shoulder a squeeze as they carefully passed one another and Toby found that, even though he was a little upset, he didn't mind the contact. It soothed him, made him feel like maybe things were more okay than they seemed in his mind. Still, it was with some trepidation that he picked up the oar.

After a few cautious strokes, however, he soon discovered that things were far easier from this end. They glided slowly but smoothly out across the surface of the lake.

"It's nice out here," Noah commented when they stopped in the middle of the lake. "Are you having fun? The best I can tell is that you're not actively upset."

Toby carefully turned around on his seat to face Noah. "It's nice."

"I used to go out with my dad, but the river the club's on is muddy and boring. Not peaceful like this." He gave Toby a smile. "Better company, too."

Toby squirmed in his seat and dropped his gaze to Noah's feet. "Your dad must be really boring if he's worse company than me."

Noah laughed, though Toby didn't see how that was funny. "You're more interesting than you think. And my dad is just..." Noah waved his hand, a vague gesture of an idea difficult to express in words. "He's a good businessman, but he's so full of shit. He wants me to be just like him, which... no way. And apparently it's his business who I date, but if I comment on him marrying a woman half his age it's off to summer camp with me."

"Oh," Toby said, because saying nothing at all felt awkward. Well, more awkward.

Noah sighed. "Whatever. I'll be eighteen soon enough, then maybe he can have a kid who'll actually be what he wants with his new wife. I'm sure he'll love her just as much when she has stretch marks."

"My parents didn't want me either," Toby told Noah's shoes. "I mean, Linda — she's my psych — she said that they did, they just couldn't— I was too much. I think, though, they just wanted a kid, and I wasn't it."

"So you don't live with them?"

Toby shook his head. "Foster care. My dad — he lives in Europe now — he sends me presents sometimes, but there's never a return address." Of which Toby was glad. He wouldn't have known what to say. "My mum takes me out about once a month and we do things, but I don’t think either of us really enjoy it. She just thinks it’s what she  _ should _ do."

"My mum died when I was little," Noah confided. "Cancer."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Toby tapped a steady rhythm on his oar, unsure where to go from here. He'd never really had a friend who he could talk about things with, only professionals who were paid to listen. He'd certainly never had anyone tell him such personal things about themselves.

"Want to keep going?" Noah asked.

"Yeah. Okay."

Toby was almost sad when the counselor blew his whistle, indicating the end of the activity. Even though they had stayed mostly quiet, Toby had enjoyed Noah's company. It wasn't often he had Noah's full attention outside of their cabin, not since Noah had made other friends.

Reality returned as they approached the dock, the voices of the other boys and the sounds of them returning their canoes to the shed shattering the peace. The world was once again a chaotic and overwhelming place.

Noah climbed out of the canoe onto the dock first with the same agile ease he had climbed in. Toby did his best to mimic the motion, but it wasn't nearly as simple as it had looked. The canoe wobbled, Toby stumbled, and then the canoe tipped.

For just a moment the shock of falling, the shock of hitting the water, whited out all thought, then everything settled again and Toby bobbed upright, buoyed by the lifejacket.

"Toby!" Noah shouted, and reached a hand over the side of the dock for Toby to grab. The dock wasn't very high off the water and Toby could have managed on his own, but he accepted Noah's help anyway.

Toby kept his head down as he stood dripping in the dock, but he could still hear the laughter, the words not murmured quietly enough. Noah wasn't laughing, though. Noah was gently helping Toby out of his life jacket.

Everything was too bright and too loud and too wet and Toby just wanted to be alone. Or alone with Noah, maybe. Before he could take more than a few steps along the dock, though, they were stopped by the counselor.

"Are you hurt?" the counselor asked. "Did you hit your head?"

Toby's response was a whining grumble as he squeezed water out of the hem of his shirt.

The counselor sighed. "Just let me feel for bumps, then."

Before the counselor could even touch him, Toby grimaced and leant away, lifting his elbow to shield his head.

"I was watching, he didn't hit anything but the water," Noah intervened before things could escalate further. "I should get him back to our cabin so he can get dried off."

There was a tense moment of silence before the counselor sighed. "Fine, but if he starts complaining of any pain in his neck, back, or head, you bring him to the nurse's office immediately. Understood?"

"Of course," Noah agreed.

Noah led the way through the group of boys who had gathered around to watch the excitement, Toby following close behind.

When they reached the track leading into the bush, Noah paused. "You okay?"

Just then words were impossible, and Toby felt an impulse run through him to strike out at Noah for even trying. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ground instead, swaying slightly from side to side where he stood.

"No, then," Noah concluded. "Come on. Let's get you back."

As they started walking again Toby clicked his tongue. If he focussed on that, only that, the rest of the world receded just a little. He wished he could just do nothing, just walk back to their cabin without putting on a display. As it was, he was only barely able to keep himself from stomping off into the bush to seek out somewhere quiet and shadowed to rock until the intensity of existence receded again.

Though Noah said nothing, didn't even give Toby disturbed glances, Toby knew he had to have noticed. He wasn't deaf and the repetitive clicking sound Toby was making with his tongue couldn't be dismissed as a casual means to amuse himself.

Toby's throat felt sore. He wasn't sure what would have come out if he'd tried to speak, whether he would have screamed or broken down crying. He wished words were easier, he wished he could just calmly explain that it wasn't just the canoe, that it was everything, all the little stresses that had been laying beneath the surface of Toby's mind just waiting for a catalyst to set the whole thing off.

At least falling out of the canoe and getting laughed at was something that would probably have been upsetting for a lot of people. Being set off by something stupid like an improperly cored piece of apple in his fruit salad would have been a lot more difficult to explain.

Toby didn't stop clicking his tongue until they arrived back at their cabin. Noah opened the door quietly, but just then even the unavoidable creak it made caused Toby to grimace. Everything was too much, too intense. Without so much as a glance in Noah's direction, Toby retreated to the bathroom.

He didn't turn on the bathroom light. It was too bright, and there was enough light coming in through the small window to allow Toby to see what he was doing while he showered. Not that he was going to be doing much.

Toby stripped his sopping clothes off and climbed under the warm spray of the shower. That, at least, felt good. He had been cold, but all his senses had been too raw for him to notice. Toby sat down on the floor of the shower and rocked.

There were too many things in his head, too many thoughts and feelings and Toby just wanted to regurgitate them all, to purge his system of all the fear and hurt. They came out in the form of desperate, sobbing tears. Toby hugged his knees against his chest and dug his fingernails into his legs.

Even alone in the bathroom, secluded from the outside world, Toby felt vulnerable, exposed. It had been a long time since he'd felt so helpless, since emotional pain had wrenched through him like a physical force, tearing at his body as it went.

After a while Noah knocked on the door, said something. Toby couldn't make out the words over the sound of the shower, over the static in his mind. It was just information.

It wasn't until the water went cold that Toby turned it off and stepped out of the shower. It was beginning to get dark, but Toby didn't turn on the light. Dark was good. He wanted dark. He wrapped himself in his towel and curled up on the floor and, when that wasn't enough, wrapped himself in Noah's towel as well. Just then, it didn't matter if Noah would mind. What mattered was keeping himself hidden from a non-existent threat.

Noah knocked on the door, a cautious rap of knuckles on wood. "You okay, Toby?"

The words made sense this time, but responding felt impossible. Toby barely felt in control of his own body, his own mind, let alone his ability to form language.

Toby heard Noah sigh and sit down against the bathroom door. "I'm trying, Toby, but I don't know what to do to help you."

It took a few seconds for Toby to make sense of the words, like his brain had lag. When he did he just felt guilty. Helpless and ashamed.

"I like you," Noah continued. "I want to just... do something, anything, and make it better. I'm not used to being so helpless."

_ I am _ , Toby wanted to say, but all he could offer Noah was silence.

Noah fell quiet but didn't move from the door. Toby could see his shadow underneath it. If it were anyone else it would have felt like an intrusion, but somehow, just then, Noah felt like a guardian. Like he was sitting watch outside the bathroom door, protecting Toby from outside threats.

Eventually Noah sighed and stood. "Don't suppose you want to go for dinner?" A few seconds pause. "Didn't think so. I'll be back in a while, okay?" Another pause. "Cheer up."

Toby waited until he heard the cabin door shut behind Noah before creeping out of the bathroom clad only in the two towels. He dressed quickly, paranoid that Noah would return prematurely, then buried himself under his blankets. It was much too hot, but it made Toby feel safe. He lay face down, his head tilted to the side just enough to allow himself to breathe, and fisted his hands in his hair. He stayed that way, unmoving, until Noah returned.


	5. Chapter 5

It seemed to have taken less time than expected for Noah to return, but time was doing funny things just then so Toby wasn't sure if that was an illusion.

"I brought you food," Noah said as he approached, his voice soft and his footsteps quiet.

Toby made a sound of acknowledgement. He could manage that much.

Noah sat down on the floor next to Toby's bed and leant against it next to Toby's head. "I brought you fruit salad."

"Not allowed to," Toby murmured. 

"It's a stupid rule that doesn't take your needs into account. You want it?"

Toby made an incoherent sound.

"I don't know if that's a yes or a no."

"Later," Toby mumbled. "Maybe."

"Okay," Noah agreed. "I brought you a brownie, too. I don't know if you like those, but I had one and they're pretty good. Got you some more vending machine crap too. You like juice? You like fruit salad, so I thought maybe juice."

The mention of liquids made Toby thirsty. He was dehydrated, he realised. All that crying and now making himself sweat under the blankets had taken its toll. He reached his hand out, nearly hitting Noah in the face.

"You want the juice?" Noah asked.

Toby nodded, his face rubbing against his mattress. A moment later, he felt the cool juice bottle against the palm of his hand.

Toby didn't want to move, but sitting up was a necessary part of drinking. He kept his eyes away from where Noah sat with one arm leant against Toby's bed.

"Thanks," Toby said once he'd drained half the bottle. "And sorry."

Noah reached a hand out to Toby before thinking better of it and pulling it back. "It's no problem."

It was, Toby wanted to insist, but he was too tired to debate it.

Noah stood and walked across the room, and Toby found he missed his presence. It had been a comfort, having someone there who cared to quietly help him put himself back together. It wasn't long before Noah returned, though, and now he had an iPad in hand. That got Toby's attention like few other things could have.

"Want to watch a movie or something?" Noah asked.

"Yes," Toby said firmly, no hesitance or mumbling now. Short of being home, in his own bed in his own room with his own things, there was nothing Toby wanted more.

Noah knelt down next to the bed and handed the iPad to Toby. "Do you want to watch the movie with me or without me?"

Though there were the same number of options, somehow a yes or no question would have been easier for Toby to process. "With," Toby said after a pause that stretched too long.

Noah stood and walked to his side of the room, retrieved his pillow and returned. By the time Noah sat cautiously down on the edge of Toby's bed, Toby was already scrolling through the apps on Noah's iPad. Not looking for anything, just seeing what was there.

"Mind if I..." Noah gestured in a vague way Toby couldn't decode. "How about you lay down and I lay down next to you so we can both see the screen?"

Toby responded to that with compliance, not words. He was so distracted by the iPad that it wasn't until he felt Noah settle in beside him that he realised what had happened. Noah was in his bed, laying close enough that they touched whenever one of them moved. Toby was okay with that. He wasn't sure if Noah would be, though, if he knew just how okay with it Toby was.

When Noah held out his hand, Toby reluctantly relinquished the iPad to him.

"Preferences?" Noah asked as he scrolled through the apps.

"You choose," Toby said as he adjusted his pillow so that he could lay at an angle where he could see the screen. "No, wait. Nothing loud."

"Okay. What do you think, something restful?"

Toby made a vague sound of agreement. Now that his mind was clearing, he just felt tired.

"Uhh, let's see. I have to admit, most of my shit is pretty actiony.  _ Hugo _ , maybe? It's a kid's movie, though. I only put it on here because I was babysitting my cousin."

"Good," Toby mumbled. He'd seen it before and had enjoyed it.

As the movie started they both settled in, close but not quite touching. Earlier even thinking about physical contact would have made Toby's skin crawl, but now all he felt was numb and sleepy and he couldn't help wishing he could just close the distance between them, snuggle up to Noah. Toby didn't think that would go down too well, though, so he stayed where he was.

Toby focussed on watching the movie and the last bit of tension left his body. Disappearing into a world of someone else's imagination allowed Toby to forget the real world, if only for a little while.

It was only about nine by the time the movie finished, an hour before Toby's usual bedtime, but he was fairly sure that if he had evicted Noah from his bed and wrapped his blankets tight around his body he could have been asleep in minutes. It was tempting to do just that, but he had an important routine to follow.

Noah had left the food on Toby's nightstand, so Toby didn't even need to get out of bed to eat. He ignored the vending machine food and went for the fresh foods, the fruit salad and the brownie. They wouldn't last long before they spoiled.

Toby wasn't really hungry, was too tired to want food, but he knew his body needed it and, more importantly, that he couldn't take his medication on an empty stomach. He'd only tried that once before and the results had involved vomit. Skipping a dose wasn't much better, leaving him feeling nauseated and anxious by the next morning.

Noah watched without comment as Toby took his medication. By this point in time, even though it had only been a couple of days, Toby didn't feel the need to hide it. Noah could see that Toby was different, that he had issues, and if that hadn't scared him away yet a bit of medication wasn't going to make much difference.

On his way to the bathroom Toby grabbed the towels off the floor, reminding him of what he’d done earlier. "I used your towel.”

Noah glanced up from where he was sitting hunched over his iPad on his bed. "Something wrong with yours?"

"No. I used them both."

Noah turned his attention back to the iPad and tapped something on the screen. "Were you really super wet?"

"No. Are you angry?"

"Do I sound angry?"

"I can't tell," Toby admitted after a moment's pause.

"No. I'm not angry," Noah reassured him. "I just didn't get it and I still don't, but I don't mind. I'm not really the kind of get freaked out by shit like that. Who cares?"

"Some people, probably. I think. I'm going to go brush my teeth now."

Noah let out a huff of laughter, though at what Toby wasn't quite sure. "You do that."

Toby went to the toilet, changed into his pyjamas, brushed his teeth, washed his face, all strictly in that order. The routine of it soothed him. Knowing what came next in the sequence usually helped free up his mind for other things, but when he was tired like this it just allowed him to zone out into peaceful neutrality.

When Toby walked out of the bathroom, Noah looked up from his iPad. He was a lot more shirtless than he had been when Toby had left the room. "You're so adorable in your jammies."

Toby looked down at his green bubble patterned flannel pyjama pants and matching T-shirt. They were a little too worn in, but comfortable. They were perhaps designed with someone a bit younger than him in mind, though. Toby wasn't sure if Noah had intended to compliment or insult him, so he didn't respond.

Noah dropped his iPad down onto his bed and sat up properly. "Sorry, that was weird."

If Toby hadn't been so tired he might have made a joke about how 'weird' was his job, but instead he just made a sound of acknowledgement.

"Now I'm the one who can't tell how you feel."

"Tired."

Noah leant forward across his knees. "You know that's not what I meant."

"They're comfortable," Toby explained, because he was too tired and he really wasn't sure what Noah meant but apparently he was supposed to know. "Everyone keeps telling me to throw them away because they're starting to get holes in them." Toby pointed to a patch worn thin on his knee that he'd had to stitch up when it tore. "But I can't find any others this comfortable."

For a moment, Noah just stared. "I can't tell if you were being defensive or if you just defaulted to random rambling because you didn't know what else to say."

"I'm tired," Toby reminded him. 

He decided not to add that Noah's shirtless state was really distracting. It wasn't easy to keep his eyes off of the smooth, toned expanse of Noah's naked torso. He had an almost overwhelming desire to go over there and just touch, find out what those muscles felt like under his hands. He didn't, though, because that would have been stupid.

Instead he indicated for Noah to turn on his lamp with a pointed finger and a grunt, then turned off the cabin light and headed for his bed. He wrapped himself up tight in his blankets and curled up, and despite the lamp softly illuminating the room he soon fell asleep.


End file.
